Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thank you to all the readers, favoriters, and followers. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far.
Going to be a little while before I can update this one again. I've got my Big Bang story coming out next week and I'm wading through editing. So be on the lookout for that! It's a bit more "normal." Whump/casefic stuff.
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5:48pm – Metro Police Station – Washington, DC – Judiciary Square Neighborhood –
When Sparr and Tony step off the elevator, Tim is already standing there, laptop bag slung over his shoulder and empty lunch bag in hand. He glances up from playing on his phone.
"Hey," he says. "It looks like you guys had a long day on the beat, huh?"
Even here, Tim is still that nerdy guy who doesn't know how to handle himself around the cool kids. Tony doesn't have the heart to tell him that they haven't worked a beat since they were rookies.
Sparr's face softens. "Just working a particularly hard case, McGee."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I got one from Dvorak yesterday with a level of encryption that I've never seen before in a civilian case. We didn't have the key, so I had to try to write my – " When Tony clears his throat, Tim flinches into an apologetic smile. "I welcomed the challenge."
Sparr shoots Tony a death glare. "Challenges are one thing, but our case is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible." Oblivious to the twitch in her eyelid, Tim presses onward with unflappable optimism. "Sometimes, you just have to create your own back door access."
Cringing visibly, Tony stares at the group of uniforms heading down the hallway. Certain that he and Sparr have a long night ahead of them, he presses his lips together.
"You know, Tim, I don't think I'll need that ride home. Sparr and I – "
"Are done for the day," she interrupts. When he looks over quizzically, she continues: "I'll get the paperwork finished so you can get home to the girls. It's not like our guy's going anywhere. We'll just pick up in the morning after Hibbard gets done with the autopsy."
"Thanks," Tony says, simply.
Even though it's so he can't screw up their case anymore, he appreciates her taking the lead. The smile in her eyes as she heads to the squad room tells him that she'll take her pound of flesh much later. Maybe he'll be able to train those monkeys to write reports after they learn how to break in NCIS.
"Lucky break," Tim says as they head into the elevator.
"Yeah, something like that."
But sticking his partner with a mound of paperwork doesn't feel particularly lucky at all, especially after he squandered the little bit of evidence they had in their case. Before Tim has a chance to hit the ground floor button, Tony smashes the one that'll take them straight to autopsy.
"Are we taking a detour?" Tim asks.
Tony smiles. "I'm creating my own back door access."
They ride in silence and when the doors glide open, Tony leads the way. The bowels of the police station reeks of rust, rot, and death. Tim gags into the back of his hand, probably desperate to keep down whatever kale-encrusted, tofu feast Delilah packed for him. Tony follows the stench all the way down the hallway to the thick metal doors labeled Autopsy.
Shoving them open, he heads inside with Tim glued to his side. His friend grips his lunch bag as though he might catch something just by touching anything in the room. He keeps his eyes fixed on the body lockers on the wall. Anything to avoid glancing at the bodies on the gurneys that are covered with white sheets like kids dressed up as ghosts for Halloween. Something that might be recognition washes over Tim's face before he swallows hard and chases it away.
Sweat pricks to his forehead and for a moment, guilt flirts with Tony for bringing his friend to this awful place. But Tim could've gotten the car started, could've stayed in the elevator. Hell, he could even have stood in the hallway. He still chose to follow Tony here.
On the last gurney in the row, a tall, skeletal man dressed in scrubs works on a body. Based on his surgical precision and quiet tones, Tony figures he must be John Hibbard, the Metro ME. An impish, Asian girl lingers by side, taking careful notes. Her ill-fitting scrubs can't hide her model's physique.
Mesmerized by the assistant's ass, Tony heads over to the gurney with Tim hovering closely. Both of them pause by the edge of the gurney and Tim makes the mistake of looking down at the burned out husk of what might've been a woman. His face goes stark-white as he dry-heaves.
"If you're going to faint," the assistant says, "don't expect me to catch you."
Tony grins. Total bitch with a killer body; they always were his type. Hibbard nods, his eyes crinkling behind his safety shield.
"She's right, son." His voice comes like a song. "You don't want to be touching this floor."
Tim takes a full step back. "Thanks for the advice, Doc."
"You're welcome, son. Are you new to the force?"
Tim shakes his head. "Computer forensics."
"Ah. Nice to meet one of our compatriots in the forensics departments." Without thinking, Hibbard extends a soot-covered hand and Tim's cheeks blanch. "Sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it. I'm just going to – " he pulls out his silent cell phone, gestures to the spot away from the bodies " – take this. Over there."
The assistant makes a face as Hibbard slides an organ into the scale with a soft squish. For a half-second, Tony watches the pair work. They are nothing like Ducky and Jimmy, who work while competing with each other to find out who has the most boring and irrelevant story. These two work in complete and well-practiced silence. When Tony surveys the number of bodies, he understands. Their case count is easily triple what Ducky and Jimmy take on.
Eventually, Hibbard clears his throat. "What can I do for you, Detective?"
Tony blinks. "Huh?"
Behind her mask, the assistant mutters something particularly nasty to herself.
"What brings you all the way down here?" Hibbard tries again. "I doubt you wanted to introduce your friend to the exciting world of autopsy."
Both of them glance to where Tim leans against the wall, doubled over and breathing hard. If Tony doesn't wrap this up quickly, he'll probably have to carry Tim home. At least, he'd have an excuse to drive the Audi and he'd get to ditch the van for a little while longer.
"I came about the John Doe. Did you get a chance for the autopsy yet?"
Hibbard's eyes squint as he checks with the assistant. Sighing like she's the only one who knows what the hell is going on, she flips through the papers on her clipboard.
"Do you mean the John Doe from the bridge or the one from the subway?" she asks.
"The subway tunnel."
Nodding, she cross-references with another page. "We're getting to him next."
Tony blinks. "But you've had the body all day."
"A John Doe with no evidence really doesn't rank too high on the priority scale. But you'll have the report first thing tomorrow morning." She shrugs. "Sorry, detective, but you aren't the only one breathing down our necks to get your work sorted."
When her glare bores into him, he understand the conversation is over. Just as he gets ready to scoop his comatose friend off the floor, inspiration hits him like a sledgehammer. Somewhere in the whirlpool of Ducky's pointless stories, Tony recalls one that might just save him right now. Hibbard plays bridge with all of the other local MEs and he has a shit poker face.
Tony turns back. "Hey, Doc, I got a question for you."
"Hm?" Hibbard says, without bothering to look up, but his pit-bull assistant does.
"Do you know the ME from NCIS?"
Hibbard nods distractedly, tosses some other internal organ into the scale. "Yes, he's on my bridge team. The Great Scot loves to hear himself talk."
Longing bubbles inside Tony's chest and right now, he would love to hear Ducky talk about anything. Even one of those stories Tony doesn't understand about when the ME was a lad, playing cricket. Hell, he'd even take the one he slept through where Ducky tried to teach the team how to play cricket. Tim learned the rules inside and out, but the team quickly all gave up playing it in the evidence garage when he and Ducky won every match.
"Could you do me a favor?" Tony asks. "I'll owe you one. Big time."
Hibbard glances up, clearly interested. "What's on your mind, Detective?"
"Our John Doe was found with a Navyman. Could you get a copy of the autopsy report from NCIS?" He shifts his weight. "Sparr doesn't think the agent in charge over there will be willing to play nice."
"Keep in mind, it'll take a lot of convincing on my part." Hibbard drops the organ in his hand back into the thorax. When it makes a loud splat, Tim groans audibly, but they all ignore him. "Mallard isn't one to give up reports without good cause. So I'll probably be stuck on his bridge team, again. Every single card reminds him of something in his life, for G-d's sake."
"That doesn't surprise me…"
Hibbard tilts his head. "Have you met Mallard before?"
When Tony glances over at Tim, his friend almost looks like might have.
"Not yet, but I've heard stories." Tony smiles tightly. "Now, about that report."
"I'll see what I can do. But keep in mind, Detective, that favor's going to need to be pretty big."
"If you can get a copy of the forensics reports too, I'll get you whatever you want."
Hibbard's steel grey eyes meet Tony's. "I'd love to land a date with your partner."
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6:18pm – Blind Justice Bar and Grille – Judiciary Square, Washington, DC –
On the entire way to pick up the van, Tim rambles about everything but their adventure in autopsy. He regales Tony with an intense story about how he wrote a code to break a 528-bit level of encryption. Who would've thought Dvorak could've uncovered military grade computer encryption during a drug bust? Sure as hell not Tony! He doesn't even know what the hell any of it means.
Tony stops paying full attention when Tim uses the phrases Trojan horse and rootkit in the same sentence. And for the life of him, Tony can't chase the picture of potatoes wearing togas in a giant, wooden horse from his brain.
Tony nods at the right parts, tunes back in just in time to find out what happened to Tim's lunch. Apparently, the vegan, free-range homeless guy around the corner gladly took the falafel whatever off of his hands. Tomorrow, they'll get hot dogs together if Tony isn't on the beat. That's if Tony's even still alive. When Sparr finds out he pimped her out to get the reports for their case, he might just be rotting away in unmarked grave somewhere off the interstate.
Tim switches conversational gears, settles into picking Tony's brain about whether he would be up for coaching a co-ed little league team this fall. Matty and Riley love baseball, Tim swears. Tony tries to yes him to death, anything to give him a little silence so he can think.
Pressing his lips together, Tony watches the familiar world glide past effortlessly outside. The closer they get to his bar, his old apartment, his home, the more choked up he becomes. He's only been here one full day, but it feels like a lifetime. His old life is already starting to go hazy around the edges and he can't help but wonder whether any of it was real.
He can't—won't—let it go.
When Tim double-parks the Audi beside the van, Tony makes a face. Of course, no one bothered to steal the piece of shit because no one wants it either.
"Hey," Tim says, "if Matty's at your house. Would you mind sending him home?"
Tony's smile is quick. "Sure."
"You're driving carpool tomorrow. Don't forget."
After a quick nod and a wave, Tony slides out of the car back into the oppressive heat. He opens the unlocked door to his van and plops into the driver's seat. His keys are exactly where he left them, in the ignition. Once the air conditioner's running on full blast, he scrubs his hands over his face and sighs.
Panic rips through him when he realizes Tim is gone and he has no idea where the fuck he lives. Up the street, he catches the Audi hop onto a side street and Tony guns the engine in a feeble attempt to catch up. The van coughs and groans with effort.
Thankfully, he pulls up behind Tim at a red light. His friend shoots him a wave in the rear view mirror. Tony follows Tim all the way back to the tree-lined street where they're neighbors, where life is complicated and simple all at the same time. He likes the sense of peace he feels right now, that little niggling like he could belong here if he just gave it enough time. A smile graces his face at the same time his stomach drops.
This can never be my home.
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Author's Note 2.0: Sorry to throw a case into the mix, but it really wouldn't leave me alone. So I'm going to run with it and give Tony a chance to go up against Gibbs. Since I'm digging into the case, it seems that Tony's going to be here for a little bit longer than I originally intended. Is there anything that you guys would like to see from a family end? Like certain moments between Tony and his kids? Or him and his wife? Or heck, even him and Tim? Drop me a review or a PM and I will be eternally grateful!
